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Chapter 1 Evil Eye Haver

Hey there, I'm Dennis Howard. I came into this world on February 19, 1989, in a tiny village up in the northwest corner of Auroria.

So, picture this: it was a crazy snowy night, and my mom, who was nine months pregnant, decided to head up the mountain to gather some herbs. On her way back down, she slipped and fell halfway down the slope. She screamed for help, but the wind and snow were so loud that no one heard her.

By the time my dad and some villagers found her the next day, she was buried in the snow, looking like a snowman.

Both my mom and I didn't make it.

In our village, there was a tradition that if a pregnant woman passed away, she could not be laid to rest in the family cemetery.

Despite my dad's desperate pleas, the village chief and some folks dug a grave under an old locust tree on the mountain and wrapped my mom in a straw mat before burying her.

That night, the snow suddenly stopped.

In the early hours, a passerby walked by my mom's new grave and, in a daze, he thought he saw a pair of green glowing eyes flickering in the darkness.

Freaked out, he hid behind the locust tree.

After a bit, he realized the eyes belonged to a three-foot-tall stone statue.

He cautiously approached and, illuminated by his flashlight, discovered a white stone statue with a snake's head and wings. The serpent's head, snow-covered, glowed green in the moonlight.

Thinking the statue might be valuable, he gathered his courage and tried to dig it out with his hands to take it away.

But after a few minutes, he found that the statue seemed to be rooted in the ground and couldn't be dug out.

Feeling something was off, he stood up, hesitated for a moment, and decided to leave quickly.

After taking just a few steps, he heard a rustling sound behind him.

He suspected the statue had come to life and quickly hid behind the locust tree, breaking off a branch to use as a weapon.

Then, he slowly peeked out from behind the tree and looked at my mom's grave.

The statue was still standing quietly in the snow, as if guarding my mom's grave.

A few seconds later, the sound of a baby crying suddenly came from the grave!

The man trembled, quickly took out a black stone from his pocket, put it in his mouth, and chewed it. Then he walked to the statue and spat the chewed stone onto the snake's head.

He glanced at my mom's grave before turning and leaving.

Moments later, a small snake emerged from the grave, circled my mom's grave twice, and hurried down the mountain.

At that time, my dad was drunkenly lying on the bed, crying with tears and snot all over his face.

Three sharp knocks on the door sobered my dad up a bit. He got up and asked, but there was no response from outside.

He staggered to the door and opened it.

Outside, everything was covered in white snow.

My dad poured the wine in his hand onto the ground in front of the door and couldn't help but sob again.

As he turned to go back inside, he suddenly noticed something standing a few feet away in the snow. Rubbing his eyes for a clearer view, my dad saw a small snake gazing up at him!

He was stunned. The little snake shook its head at him and then turned to crawl up the mountain.

Like he was in a trance, he followed it, stumbling up the mountain. When he reached the old locust tree, he faintly heard the sound of a baby crying.

His heart skipped a beat, and he scrambled to my mom's grave. In the darkness, the crying was coming from the grave!

"My child—"

He cried out and started digging with his hands.

After a few digs, the snake-headed, winged statue behind him suddenly sank into the snow, revealing a hole over a foot in diameter.

He turned to look at the sound and thought, 'There was a big stone there just now, where did it go?'

Confused, he saw a baby struggling to crawl out of the dark hole!

Overjoyed, he quickly picked me up.

The next day, the village was in an uproar.

The villagers said I had crawled out of the grave myself, that I had killed my mother and would now kill my father.

There was one more eerie thing: my eyeballs wouldn't move; I could only stare straight ahead. And I couldn't cry—no matter how much it hurt, not a single tear would come out.

So, they said I had the evil eye and that looking into my eyes would bring disaster.

On February 19, 1995, my 6th birthday.

Early in the morning, my dad cooked me a bowl of spaghetti. After I finished eating, he took me up the mountain to pay respects to my mom.

That night, heavy snow fell.

My dad drank several ounces of whiskey, muttering to himself before falling asleep.

I played by myself for a while, then turned off the lights and lay down next to him.

With the howling wind outside, I soon fell into a deep sleep.

I don't know how long I slept, but I was vaguely awakened by someone calling outside. I pushed my dad, but he was deep in his drunken sleep.

With no other choice, I mustered up the courage, put on a cotton coat, and tiptoed to the door, pressing my ear against it.

Outside, the north wind was fierce, mixed with the shouts of neighbors.

Suddenly, the knocking sound startled me, and I took some steps back, falling to the ground.

"Who is it?" I asked instinctively.

There was no response from outside the door. Just as I was about to get up to check, I saw a silver snake head, the size of a walnut, emerge from the crack under the door. It stared at me, flicking its blood-red tongue.

Oddly enough, I felt no fear, even finding the snake's black eyes somewhat endearing.

The small snake looked at me a few times before turning and leaving.

Soon, the shouting outside also stopped.

The next morning, I went out to the field with my dad. The neighbors looked at us like they had seen a ghost, whispering.

My dad said nothing until we met his brother, Peter Howard, in the field. Only then did we learn that at midnight, countless black snakes had appeared out of thin air, slithering into every house and giving everyone a light bite.

Except for our house, where not a single snake went.

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